The First Generation: Jack's Story
by Banisters
Summary: Before Jack was the leader of the newsies, there was Grip. Grip taught him the basics about selling papes and turned him into the champion seller he is. Read to find out about Jack's past, and how he earned his spot on the throne.
1. Homecoming Ain't Easy

"So whatdaya do with these extra papers?" Jack asked curiously.

"Papes. 'Round here we call 'em papes, kid," Grip answered.

"Oh…Well, whatdaya do with the extras?" Jack repeated.

"You eat 'em,Francis" Grip said with a chuckle. Jack laughed along with him, then asked him again.

"I ain't kiddin', kid!" Grip responded more seriously. He patted Jack's back with his gloved hand. Jack frowned and sighed. It would take him awhile to get used to being a newsie. He glanced at Grip's hand, the one that was hidden by a brown, ragged leather glove. Jack smiled, that glove had a way of making him smile. When he had first met Grip four days ago, Grip told him about why he wore it.

"_Ya see, I always gettin' in fights, kid, as ya saw. When I punch, I use this hand," Grip had said as he raised his right hand. "Now, ya knows that when ya soak punks every day, it rips up ya knuckles and bruises ya fist, right Francis?"_

_Jack nodded._

"_Well, afta while, it makes ya hand raw and bloody. It ain't good for ya. So I gotta keep it gloved it so it don't get like that."_

"So how wasFrancis_'_s first meal of ink and paper?" Chalk asked when Grip and Jack walked into the lodging house.

"He loved it, didn't ya, Sullivan?" Grip answered. He threw his arm around Jack and shook him playfully.

"Uh-huh…" Jack muttered.

Chalk burst out laughing and ruf fled his hair.

"Atta boy!"

Chalk was the tallest newsie in the lodging house, standing at six feet, three inches. His real name was Elliot, but once he became a newsie he changed his name. He was incredibly skinny and very pale, like a stick of chalk (which earned him his nickname). His hair was black, like the soot on the hands of a coal miner, which made him appear even paler. Chalk's eyes were a striking blue, like a patch of azure sky on a cloudy day.

"How many didya eat, kid?" he asked.

Once again, Grip acted as Jack's mouth.

"He ate two!"

"Whatdaya do with the rest of the papes?"

"That was all he had, Chalk. He bought 40 papes and sold all but two!"

"Shucks! That's a lot a papes for…what, his third day! And he's only…How old are you, kid?"

Jack opened his mouth before Grip had a chance to respond for him.

"I'm thirteen"

"Geez, Grip! This kid is born to sell!"

"And who's the one who found 'im?"

Chalk rolled his eyes, teasingly punched Grip's arm, and walked upstairs. Grip grinned and shook his head, then followed him. Grip was a few inches shorter than Chalk, but less skinny and more built. His brown hair was tossed messily on his head and often damp with sweat. His arms were tattooed with scars from past fights, and his leg had a long, deep cut on it from a fight he'd got in when he first met Jack.

"_Haha! Get 'im, Morris!" Oscar Delancey shouted to his brother. Morris kicked Jack again, making him tumble on cobblestone street. He leaned over and through a few strikes at Jack, connecting his fist with stomach. Oscar sprinted over to assist him. _

"_We ain't gonna forgive 'im for what his dad did to our aunt, right Oscar?" Morris asked. Oscar sneered, and replied by slamming his foot down on Jack's face. Jack screamed and grabbed Oscar's foot, managing to pull off his shoe. He smashed the heel of it into Morris's head, then lifted his knee to Oscar's jaw. They stumbled away from him, giving Jack enough time to pull himself up._

"_YOU'RE DEAD NOW!" the Delancey's shouted. _

"_Leave 'im alone, ya bastards!" _

_Grip emerged from an alley, his face distorted in anger. The Delancey's squinted at him._

"_Or what?"_

"_Or I'll be responsible for puttin' ya in your graves!"_

_Grip charged towards them and tackled them to the ground. Jack inched away until his back was resting on a building, the lodging house. He watched with startled eyes as Grip furiously soaked the brothers. At one point, Morris stood up and shoved Grip against a newspaper wagon. A sharp piece of metal was caught in the wheel, and tore open the flesh of Grip's calf. He winced and slammed his whole body against Morris, then ran towards Jack, limping._

"_Let's get outta here, kid!" he ordered. Without speaking, Jack followed the injured Grip into the lodging house. Several newsies flocked around Grip and the new-comer._

"There 'e is!" Shay announced. He greeted Grip with a smack on the face.

"Hiya Shay! I heard 'bout how ya fooled that guy into buyin' three papes!"

"Oh yea, it was great, Grip! You shoulda seen it…"

Shay's voice faded into the sound of laughter and conversations emitted by the other newsies. Shay was one of the few black newsies of Manhattan, and he was proud of it. Although people sometimes gave him a hard time, he'd always handle it by secretly making them pay for more papes than they wanted. Grip drifted into the crowd of his "brothers" as they chatted about their day. Jack tagged along and took a seat on his bunk by Shay.

"- So then I says to 'im, I says 'No sir, of course I didn't change the headline. Ain't you able to read with those huge glasses of yours?'"

The room filled with even more hoots and chuckles. Jack felt shy at moments like this, and extremely lonely. Grip could sense this, though, and looked reassuringly at Jack.

"So, Francis, ya never did tell us why the Delanceys were soaking ya…" Grip said.

"Yeah, we all knows they're jerks, but they don't usually go afta kids 'round their age," Chalk stated. Jack swallowed and rolled his tongue over his teeth, his sign of hesitation.

"Come on, kid, you gotta know why!" Shay urged.

"My…uh…my dad hurt their aunt…" he finally said.

"Oh…What…uh…happened?" Grip asked. Jack was confused by Grip's ignorance and curiosity.

"He's in jail now…"

"That still don't explain what he did, Sullivan"

Jack was still astounded at Grip. He was a newsie, hadn't he read about it in the paper last week?

"Francis…"Grip whispered in a low voice.

"He raped her…"Jack retorted quietly.

Grip's eyes widened, as well as all the other newsies'. They all closed their mouths and the room became silent. All the cheer's radiation had burned out; the flame of happiness had been extinguished. Shay bit his lip, glanced at Jack, then the others.

"Well uh…It's getting late…We outta go to bed. We gotta carry our banner tomorrow, ya know? G'night…"

"G'night…" everyone said in unison.

Jack lay down, thinking about his father's crime. If his father hadn't done what he did, Jack wouldn't be on the streets. If his mother hadn't died during the birth of his younger brother, he wouldn't be here. But that's how reality works. It doesn't care about love, hate, or opinions. All it cares about is making sure that life goes on. And it would, no matter what Jack did.

_Jack eyelids were squeezed tight as he coped with the pain in his hand. He stood by his mother as she screamed and grasped his hand for support. Her breaths were short and rapid as she delivered Jack's brother. _

"_GET YOUR FATHER!" she yelled._

"_He's out!"_

"_GO FIND HIM, FRANCIS!"_

"_But...what about you?"_

"_Please!"_

_Jack pulled on his shoes and ran outside of his apartment. He started down the corner to the nearest bar, he was sure his dad would be there. He grabbed the doorknob, but his sweaty palms prevented him from opening the door. Jack wiped them on his pants then dashed inside. Sure enough, there was Mr. Sullivan, taking shots of whiskey._

"_Dad! Mom's havin the baby!" he yelped._

"_Heya Francis…What's that ya say?" his father answered with slurred words._

"_Mom is having the baby!"_

"_That's great, kid…Tell her I said hi…"_

_Jack could tell his father was drunk and wouldn't help a bit. _

"_Bastard…" he mumbled as he left the bar. When he got back home, he was surprised that the screams had stopped._

"_Mom? Ya alright?"_

_Jack walked into her bedroom, where she lay in a pile of blood covered sheets on her bed._

"_Mom?"_

_Jack approached her, his body trembling. Her breathing was no longer rapid, nor shallow. She wasn't breathing at all. He reached for her hand, hoping to at least feel the familiar pain of her clutch._

"_MOM!" Jack shouted. Suddenly, Jack remembered the baby. He pulled the sheets off of his mom and found a small baby, bloody and dead. Jack sobbed for the rest of the night, until his father stumbled into their apartment. _

"_Heya Francis!"_

"IT'S A FINE LIFE, CARRYIN' THE BANNER THROUGH IT ALL!"

Jack awoke to Grip's singing, as he had been doing for the last few days. He tossed his sheets of his bed and got dressed, but unlike the others, Jack did not sing. When you sang, it meant to felt accepted among the newsies, and Jack did not. Everyone noticed this, and it embarrassed him slightly. He simply sulked during the solos and waited for the songs to be finished.

"Ya ain't too cocky, are ya, Sullivan? Got no confidence, no respect in yaself," Stealth said while the newsies were buying their papers. "If ya wanna make it big round here, ya gotta sell more papes. And to sell more, ya gotta buy more! I knows you're a good seller, so why are ya bein' weak with your money?"

"I'm savin' it…" Jack replied.

"For what, Sully? Food or clothes or something?" Stealth paused and smiled. "And if ya gots all that money, why ain't ya sharin' it with us?"

"I'm savin' it so I can go somewhere."

"Like what, a trip? You'd leave ya buddy Stealth here?"

"Nah…It's just…I dunno"

"Ya can't keep living your life not knowing, Sully. Where are ya goin'?"

"This place my mom wanted to go to…Out west"

"Ahh…And that would be?"

"Santa Fe"

"That's good of ya, kid, goin' there for your mother. But uh, why don't ya bring 'er with ya?"

"I can't"

"Because?"

"She ain't alive"

Stealth's jaw tightened. His gaze shifted around, hoping to avoid Jack's eyes. Stealth always thought he was to blame for putting people down. He always seemed to bring up a bitter memory. That is, after all, one reason they called him stealth. Every time he would start up a conversation, he would weave his way along, silent, then pop out a personal question.

"Sorry kid"


	2. The Eyes By The Faucet

The next morning, after a bad selling day, the newsies were up and ready again. There was a difference, however, not in Jack, but in the population. No, nobody died, but Kloppman had left to go visit his niece. This news aroused the mischievous side in Grip, whose attitude spread faster than a cold.

"I'm goin' over to the Bronx tonight…I wanna go see my cousin…" Shay announced.

"Cousin? You've never mentioned a cousin…" Chalk interjected

"Well, I have one. Little guy, nine years old. We call 'im Boots"

"And…why do ya call him that?"

"And…why do ya have to butt into my life?" Shay said with a smirk.

"Whatever. I'm goin' home tonight. Ma's been worried, the last time I went home was over two weeks ago"

Jack listened inquisitively to each word from the other newsies. After some time, Jack discovered that he was the only one not planning on leaving the lodging house, except for Grip.

"What are ya doin' tonight, Sullivan?" he asked.

"I dunno…I was gonna stick 'round here…"Jack replied.

"Look…Ya can't kid…Sorry…"

"What? Why, Grip?"

"'Cause I got someone comin over, and I don't think that person will be impressed by…extra company…"

The newsies exploded with laughter and began teasing their leader.

"Aw man, Grip! Ya got another girl!"

"Finally! Your rep was goin' down, Grip!"

"Ha! You gonna stay with this one for real this time?"

Grip smiled, then silenced the guys. "Shut up! Come on, we still gotta sell today!"

After the morning buzz; the newsies poured into the streets and shouting headlines, but were unable to focus on work. Chalk was too excited about going home; Shay couldn't wait to see Boots. Stealth was eager to spend his night playing poker in Brooklyn, while more Manhattan newsies( Bullet-Flask, Dare, Edgy, etc) were going to roam around and get a few drinks. The younger part of the crew were going to Medda's and maybe getting a bite to eat. Still, after selling around twenty papes by noon, Jack had no idea what he'd do. Thirty papes later, he concluded that he'd just go with the younger newsies to see Medda. Ten papes later, he changed his mind and made a final decision of lounging at the lodging house and avoiding Grip and his guest. Five papes later, Jack was finished thinking, and the sun was starting to set. Jack was surprised by his own obliviousness, but relieved that he had a break.

"See ya tomorrow!" Grip called out as the newsies filed out of the lodging house. Each one grinned and elbowed him in the ribs as they left. Grip ignored their gestures, and, in fact, seemed to be lost in a dreamy state. This was good, however, for Jack, who slipped back upstairs easily. He grabbed a book and threw himself on his bunk, but for a long time, didn't turn the pages. He merely stared at the cover: a faded drawing of a cowboy and his horse.

"I'll go there for ya, Mom. Someday…" he whispered, hoping she'd somehow hear him. Jack could feel his eyes beginning to sting, and felt a chill overwhelm him. His chin started to quiver, and Jack felt horribly ashamed.

"_Why are ya crying, Francis?"_

"_I just…I miss mom…"_

"_Don't ya dare cry. Men don't cry!" Mr. Sullivan scolded._

_Jack continued sobbing, despite his father's words. _

"_Stop it!"_

"_It's your fault! Ya weren't here and she died!"_

"_Don't blame this on me!"_

"_You were too busy getting drunk!"_

"_Shut up!"_

"_You didn't even know she was dead until the next day, you had a damn hangover!"_

"_Listen to me-"_

"_No, ya listen-"_

"_SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO ME!"_

"_NO!"_

_Instead of speaking, Jack's father shoved Jack in the chest._

"_SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO ME FOR ONCE, YA FAILURE OF SON! MEN DON'T CRY, EVER!"_

Jack shuddered, but his flashback was interrupted when he heard the door open downstairs. He rubbed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and eavesdropped on the voices below. He couldn't make out the mumbles, but he knew Grip and a girl were talking. Jack leered, and got out of his bunk. He walked over to the bathroom and hid behind the sink, then continued paying attention. The volume was louder, and Jack could hear the stairs creaking. Grip was laughing, as was the girl; and their tone seemed very loose.

"Travis…" murmured the female voice.

Travis? Jack stifled a laugh. He couldn't imagine Grip's real name being Travis. The room was quiet, for a moment at least, then the squeak of mattress springs filled the room. Jack didn't expect Grip to be fooling around; he didn't think he'd be stuck in the bathroom and unable to interrupt what was going on.

"Dammit…" Jack swore silently. He really didn't want to be around to listen to this, but he couldn't just dash out and have Grip see him.

"Mmmm…"

Echoes were soon bouncing off the walls, which made Jack tremble and smile at the same time. Adjectives and verbs he'd had never heard used with such passion were ringing through his ears. Each word was short, but contained so much meaning.

"I realize why they call you 'Grip'"

Jack closed his eyes and bit his thumbnail, as if the humor would drain from his body and into his cuticle.

"I realize why ya parents don't trust you…"

"I realize why you didn't want anyone around to hear this"

"How ironic…"Jack whispered a little too loudly.

"What the hell? Sullivan!"

Grip scrambled out of the bed, a sheet draped around his waist. The peaceful face he'd worn a few seconds ago had morphed into one radiating with animosity.

"What are ya _doing_ here, kid!"

"I uh…" Jack stuttered.

"I'm giving ya three seconds to leave. One…"

Jack rushed out of the bathroom and down the stairs, without glancing at whoever Grip was in bed with. He didn't care, but the rush of snooping and adrenaline was hard to bare. When he got outside, his emptied his lungs to New York.

"WAY TO GO, GRIP!"


	3. A Lesson in Leadership

"Ya tell no-one 'bout what ya heard last night, got it, Sullivan?" Grip demanded.

Jack snickered, but stopped when Grip glared at him fiercely. He didn't get it: something like last night's incident would stack upon the many layers of Grip's reputation, but yet Grip was making Jack pledge to be quiet.

"I mean it, don't tell anyone. Don't tell Shay, or Chalk, or Stealth, or the rest of 'em"

"Sure thing…But why not?" Jack inquired. "Don't ya want people knowing 'bout…that?"

"'Bout what I do under the sheets, Sullivan? No, actually, I don't. 'Spite all the rumors our boys say 'bout me, I don't like people goin' 'round and sayin' stuff," Grip explained.

Jack shrugged. "Ya just seem like the type who'd-"

Grip shook his head. "Nuh-uh, Sully. The other times, maybe, but this girl…she's special…And don't ya roll your eyes at me. It ain't like those other times…Hect, you've never even heard about those last times, you've been here a week!"

"I guess I understand…But are ya gonna 'least mention 'er?"

"Nuh-uh. I have a strong reason not to…"

_Jack was jolted awake from his sleep when he heard the door open. He raised himself groggily as his dad stumbled into his room. Jack was astonished that his father didn't smell of beer, but, rather, of cologne and perfume._

"_Francis, ya can't tell no-one about tonight"_

"_What? What'd ya do?"_

"_I just…I made a mistake, ya can't tell anyone, got it, Francis!"_

"_Why are ya tellin' me this then?"_

"'_Cause I gotta know that when the bulls show up, ya ain't gonna let them find out!"_

"_But what did ya do!"_

_Mr. Sullivan slurred his words, purposely. Jack could only comprehend a bit of his sentence, the keyword though, the crime itself._

"_Ya raped somebody!" Jack yelled in disbelief._

"_Shut up, don't tell anyone, ever!"_

_It was this night when Jack finally knew that he'd have to leave his father soon. The man was obviously confused, lost, and bitter. Jack knew he wouldn't be able to help him; and getting involved with the law was something Jack didn't want to be a part of. Jack began packing that night as his dad slept uneasily; destined to leave by tomorrow morning. But of course, there are always potholes and bumps on the road of life. Sometimes you pull over, for temporarily relief. Then again, you could always swerve on the tar. But, there was a third option, the one Jack chose. Ignore the hardships and just keep driving. _

"What's that reason?" Jack asked after hesitating.

"Can't tell ya…" Grip said as the downstairs door opened. Grip leaned back in his bed as most of the newsies walked inside, with the exception of Stealth.

"'Morning everyone!" Grip greeted. Jack found it amazing how Grip could abruptly change his tone of voice and act as if nothing had occurred.

"Heya glove-boy!" Dare chirped when he walked in. Dare was only a year older than Jack, but behaved like he was seventeen. "Stealth is pissed at ya, Grip."

Grip's faced drained of color, but he tried to hide it. "Heh…'Wonder why…"

"Yeah," exclaimed Chalk. "He's out of it. Ya might wanna talk to 'im. He's outside…"

Grip looked at Shay and the others, hoping to seek pity from them. They didn't know what was going on, so they simply encouraged him with smiles. The others trudged upstairs, ignoring the situation. Apparently, they believed the issue was over something that wasn't a bit complex. Jack, on the other hand, watched from the window.

Stealth's eyes seemed merciless, which was rare for him. Grip sauntered over to him, trying to pretend that he didn't understand why Stealth was mad.

"So what's with ya, Grippy? Outta all the girls in Manhattan…Honestly, Grip!" he shouted.

Grip averted his gaze and began improvising a lie. "What are ya talking 'bout, Stealth?

"My girl. Of all the girls, glove-boy, you slept with _my girl._ What the hell is wrong with ya?"

Jack swallowed nervously as Stealth threatened him. His mouth felt dry; this sort of conflict seemed so recent.

"It's not like she didn't wanna, Stealth…"

Stealth flung himself at Grip and pinned him to the wall of the lodging house.

"Just shut the hell up! I don't get ya, Grip. You're always goin' on 'bout loyalty, 'bout never betrayin' your brother! So what would ya call this? Treason, Grip!"

"Look, Stealth, I-"

"Shut up! I don't wanna here it! I'm outta here! I ain't coming back, ya got it? Thanks for bein' such a great leader. _Such a great leader_. Ya asshole…"

And with that, with no money in his pockets, Stealth left. Jack witnessed a lesson he'd remember for the rest of his life, one that effected how he acted from then on. Jack learned that, no matter what, you _never_ do something that would hurt your brother. He discovered that once you hurt your brother, not even the best medicine would make him better. And Jack figured out that all leaders, despite their efforts to make things okay, have flaws.

The other newsies were furious.

"Whatdaya mean, Stealth just left? He wouldn't do that!" Chalk roared. Grip looked down at his gloved hand, closing and opening it, over and over.

"Aw, Grip…What did ya do?" Shay asked accusingly, but with some sympathy.

"Now ya blaming me!" Grip snapped.

"Grippy, you ain't the best when it comes to…"

"Comes to what, Shay? Huh! Just spit it out!"

"Let's just say you're challenged when it comes to sleep smarts…" Shay said calmly. Grip ignored the comment and turned to face Jack.

"Didn't ya learn anything just then, Sullivan! Ya don't betray your brothers! And don't ya dare call me a hypocrite!"

Jack raised an eyebrow and Grip, studying him for a moment. This performance was recognizable to Jack. It occurred to him that in many ways, Grip was like a less-violent version of his father.

"I didn't tell 'em, Grip. I think ya just screwed up too much when ya screwed…" Jack sighed.

"I can't believe ya guys!" Grip growled. He walked downstairs, making sure to stomp each step, and slammed the door shut as he vanished.

Jack's jaw dropped.

"It ain't your fault, Sullivan. Grip's always been like this. He tries to stay cool, but underneath he's on the verge of snappin'. He'll be back though…" Chalk said.

"How do ya know that?" Jack questioned.

"Because he don't got a family, he don't got anywhere to go…He don't even got dreams. His life is devoted to leadin' us and sellin' papes…That's why Grip makes so many mistakes, Sullivan. He don't actually know how to act 'round people, he never grew up with 'em…"

And perhaps that is why Jack held on to Santa Fe, his only dream. Perhaps that's why he grasped onto memories of his mother and father, even the bad ones. He didn't want to be like Grip if he ever became a leader. No, Jack would be different. Jack would be Jack.


End file.
